Blood & Amnesia
by LadySilverDragon2
Summary: Faye goes to the hospital to give blood and guesse who she finds there! (Hint: its not Spike and his name starts with a V!)
1. WIFE!

Heya, Shangri-La here! Now, I know that this story isn't under my pen name, but that's because I'm co-authoring it. This first chapter is what I wrote, and the second will be by my friend. We'll take turns trading off. We just love weird couples, so here's one for you! FayexVicious! Hope you all enjoy and review!  
  
~~~~~  
  
Faye's POV:  
  
It was a crisp Saturday morning, and while I strolled down the street, taking my time as I do with most things, I could just smell the delicious aromas of countless varieties of food. Bread and pastries from the bakery, sweets from the candy shop, even fried rice was pungent in the air. My stomach was growling fiercely, demanding food, and I couldn't push back the groan that escaped me. It'd been nearly three days since I'd had a decent meal, and my stomach was getting pretty near to touching my back, so to speak. I remembered the days on the Bebop where we'd all complain about Jet's cooking and how he served nothing but bell peppers and beef - without the beef. Right now I'd give anything just to have that meal in my hands.  
  
I smirked at the irony.  
  
As a bounty hunter, I depended on the crimes of others, but lately, people seemed to be either behaving themselves or being snatched up by the law. My profession was growing harder and scarcer. The only reason my landlady allowed me to stay in the apartment was because I'd saved her from drowning once in the river. It'd been an accident really, but when Faye Valentine gets a free ride, she rides until she crashes or gets kicked off.  
  
The hospital was looming in the distant at this point, and my thoughts had to be put on hold as I mounted the high, cement steps. The bright sun nearly blinded me when I glanced up into the blue sky, even though the weather was a bit cooler, and when I rubbed my eyes and regained vision, the colors around me had faded considerably. When I stepped into the darker building, the halls seemed to be badly lit, but I soon realized it was still just because of my eyes, which brought one thought to mind. What a day to forget your sunglasses!  
  
I'd come to sell my blood; you know, just to earn a little money. Hey, it helps people, and gets me a meal. It's just a little shot, plus they pay you AND give you juice and cookies. The thought of eating again nearly made me giddy, but the prospect of the needles did not. But, hey, college students did this all the time, right? Why couldn't I?  
  
At the desk, the nurse, her name was Sarah, kindly escorted me to the room and showed me the cot I could sit on, and, if needed, lie down on later. I decided to pretend to pass out later just to get a small nap in the cot since I would not be sleeping in one later that night, and would most likely end up...somewhere else. I didn't know yet.  
  
I had to look away during the whole process. I hate needles. When it was all over though, I greedily took what I could of their graham crackers and sugar cookies and even stuffed what was left in my pockets when they weren't looking. I then took the juice, claimed to be feeling sick, and dozed off.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Sarah had other things to attend to while her blood donor slept on, so she moved on into the hall and navigated her way to another patient's room. He was a thirty-something, Caucasian male with shoulder-length, colorless hair that rolled in gentle waves onto his broad shoulders. He was tall and pale, and had sharp, aristocratic features that made anyone intimidated, but he was actually a very gentle figure.  
  
He'd come to them with serious injuries caused by some sort of powerful gun and had lingered in a state of being only semi-alive and mostly dead for months. But now, he was recovering nicely, with one problem. He could not recall anything about himself. His name, home, past, family, age, birthday, anything. It was all blank with the only knowledge he possessed being the layout of the hospital, it's food, and the names of the nurses. He was actually a really sweet man who was reserved, quiet, and very compliant.  
  
"Hello, Benjamin," she cooed, walking into his room. Benjamin had been the name he had chosen for himself upon awakening and finding he had no other to call himself by. "How are we feeling today?"  
  
He was sitting by the window in a pair of gray sweat pants and a loose, black sweater. He'd taken to wearing clothes instead of the hospital gown lately, seeing as how he was near back to perfect health. The people who had brought him in had left some of his possessions, money to pay for his stay, and nothing more. They left no way to contact him; they didn't want him. It was strange, really...  
  
Benjamin turned and smiled at her, his lips thin and pale in the bright sunlight illuminating him, making his skin a perfect shade of white. His hair shone healthily now, instead of dull and matted with blood like it had been when he'd come in. "Hello," he greeted her softly, deep voice rich and kind. "I'm fine."  
  
"Would you like to go for a walk today?" she asked sweetly, extending her hand to him.  
  
He nodded eagerly, like a child wanting to go to the park, and took her arm, rising to his feet. He was impressively tall, but still very weak. "Can we go outside?"  
  
"Umm...I'm sure it wouldn't hurt!" Sarah valued Benjamin as one of her favorite patients.  
  
He grinned, white teeth sparkling. There was something unnatural about his smile, like he wasn't meant to perform the action. Like he hadn't done it in his past life. His slanted, pale blue eyes was still dull and solemn, serious even when he was laughing.  
  
His laugh. That was another matter. It was a hollow, echoing sound that only contained just a spark of joy and never really came from the heart.  
  
Together, the two walked slowly down the hall.  
  
~~~~~  
  
When I awoke, I was feeling much better, much more calm and confident. I took the folded check from my pocket and smiled. As soon as I could cash it, I was going out for lunch. Then, rising to my feet, I tucked some of my ebony, shoulder-length hair behind my hair and stole a quick look in the mirror. A catty, self-rightous, smirking woman looked back at me, her face round and her features dainty, deep green eyes sparkling in mischief. Full, red lips curved up into an almost evil smile. I always looked like I was up to no good when I was happy.  
  
Then, turning around, I smoothed the wrinkles out of my red, sleeveless shirt and denim shorts and started off. Years ago I had always worn the same look; slick yellow top and shorts too short for words. But I'd learned that, sometimes, looks were second to practicality. Especially when you had no one left to impress.  
  
Spike was dead...  
  
Hurt flared up in me at that thought. I wasn't interested in men or anything else for that matter anymore, because I had wanted him. I had wanted Spike! But, if I couldn't have him, I was content to be alone for a while.  
  
I was almost at the door, comfortable tennis shoes thudding in the empty hall (man, I needed new shoes), when I spotted Sarah, my nurse, coming around the bend with a patient. I was about to call out to thank her when I realized just who she had leaning on her arm.  
  
Vicious.  
  
That tall, lean man with white hair and the fair skin, condescending face and deadbeat eyes. Sorrowful gaze. Firm scowl cemented in place. But now...he was different. He was looking gentle and kind and...and...and smiling!  
  
My heart almost stopped. He had killed Spike, and died with him, I had assumed. Why was he alive? Why was he here when Spike couldn't be? This wasn't fair! I gritted my teeth in anger at the injustice. I wanted him to see me, and to maybe say something, so I could yell at him and scream and punch him straight across the jaw and just basically cause a horrid scene.  
  
I ran over to the two of them, tears in my eyes, and stared up into his face defiantly, just waiting. Vicious merely stopped walking and looked at me in surprise. He didn't seem to know...  
  
"Hello," he said politely. "My name is Benjamin."  
  
"It is not!" I seethed, right before it dawned on me what was happening. He had amnesia. "I mean, I - I know you."  
  
He squinted at me in surprise, and it felt weird and awkward to be standing so close to the killer while he remained lost and helpless. "I think," he said at last, "I know you. May...?"  
  
Close enough. "Yes," I said. "May Valentine." Already there is a plan in my mind. "And you are called Vicious. Sarah, may I talk to you for a moment?"  
  
~~~~~  
  
People can be gullible, and it only took a matter of moments to convince the hospital staff that Vicious was my husband, who I had thought had been mugged and then murdered. I basically told them that he had gone out for bread one night and never come home. They wanted to wait a few weeks to release him and I was ok with that. It gave me time to make up false documents and gather some fake proof that I really did know him. It wasn't all that hard, mostly because Vicious was so sure he knew me and we had been on good terms. Oh what a tangled web we weave...  
  
"This is our home," I told him, opening the door to the small apartment. Too bad I hadn't had time to clean and make it look like he had been there at one time. I mean, what kind of a wife throws away everything of her dead husband's after only a few months? Me, I guess.  
  
Vicious just stood there in the doorway, a suitcase in hand and a box of belongings under his arm. He looked vaguely confused, like coming here with me was a mistake. Well, it was. Hesitantly, he stepped inside and put his stuff on the kitchen table, small as it was.  
  
"I'll get you something to eat," I said, going to rummage through the pantry and producing enough bread and peanut butter for a sandwich. Hey, it was all he was going to get.  
  
Vicious was staring at my sparse collection of photographs on the wall. Jet and Ed together on the Bebop, Spike lazily lounging on the couch. The four of us together. I even had one of Ein. I'd taken them here and there whenever I felt like it. It was almost as if I knew I would need the memories someday.  
  
"Where are the wedding pictures?"  
  
"What?" I asked absently.  
  
"We're married, right? So, where are the wedding pictures? Anything of us together?" He paused, and then looked closer at the photographs. "Who are these people?"  
  
"My family," I said quietly. "And I don't have anything of you because you're very camera shy. You never wanted to take pictures. And the wedding photographs are packed away." A harmless lie. I'd just find a happy couple in black and white and paste our faces over theirs or something.  
  
"Oh." He seemed satisfied with that. "Can I take a shower?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." I pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and then sat myself down at the table, beginning to eat the sandwich I had originally made for him. He didn't seem to be hungry anyway, and I was. I listened to the water running and then eventually heard it stop. All the while, I was thinking of what to do with him.  
  
I had Vicious at my mercy now, but just what to do? I wanted him to suffer emotionally, but doing that may take some time. I wanted to get him to trust and love me and then take it all away and let the betrayal burn him worse than any fire ever could. Eventually, I wanted to lure him out somewhere and just shoot him to pieces. For Spike. Even for Julia.  
  
The door to the bathroom opened and Vicious emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist and water still dripping down his bear chest. I have to admit, I blushed. Not because he was in a towel, but because he was VICIOUS. The man had always been clothed to the fullest extent when I had seen him, not even letting his arms go without covering. He had a nasty scar where I supposed Spike had shot him, just along the ridge of his left ribcage.  
  
"Hey," he said, unashamed even as my face turned bright red, "I'm going to bed, ok?"  
  
"Yeah," I croaked, and he turned around to walk back into the closet. Once he had figured out that, he turned to me, chuckling nervously, and then tried the next door. And yes, it was the bedroom.  
  
The bedroom! Darn it!  
  
I had thought of having to sleep in the same bed as him, and I had presumed that maybe I'd just come in really late, while he was asleep, and crawl in and just lie on the very edge, but now... Now I was a complete mess, ready for a nervous breakdown.  
  
Well, he was handsome...  
  
I licked the peanut butter off my fingers and smiled.  
  
This would be my revenge. He would pay so dearly. 


	2. Breakfast

Hey this is LadySilverDragon and Shangri La sending you another chap for Blood & Amnesia!

Faye: Is this chapter more interesting then the last? Because if not I'm leaving now

LadySilverDragon: Wait and see! please if not you can leave Ok?

Faye: Fine

****

Disclaimer: Neither Shangri La or I own Cowboy BeBop.

Vicious' View:

It was around ten o'clock the next morning when I awoke. It was………strange. Strange to see the sun slanting in golden rays through the window, falling across the white sheets draped over my body and the other inhabitant of the bed. Think about it. I've spent all of my life that I can remember waking up in a hospital cot, the starched, rough sheets stiff and blindingly white, the only person to greet me being a nurse or doctor that would come in later and most likely have some sort of unpleasant activity ahead. And then, one day, just when I was losing hope that I actually had a past, a beautiful woman, tall and slender and perfect, her black hair just barely brushing thin shoulders, green eyes laced with a most brilliant amber, turns around the corner and shouts, "Hey! I know you!" And tells me my real name.

Vicious.

It's a funny thing. I chose Benjamin. She said Vicious. Why would I be called that? Perhaps a friend found me to be like that, or it's just a joke. I don't feel vicious. 

I glanced over to see my wife, May, lying curled up under the covers on the far edge of the bed, nearly clinging to it for dear life. She seemed almost tense even as she slept, as though anxiety pierced her dreams. So I just laid there and watched her, my eyes narrowed in concentration. It's a huge relief to know that you have someone to help you when you feel like you're stumbling through darkness, someone to worry for you when you don't even know your true identity. 

I climbed out of bed and threw on a shirt, already wearing a pair of black sweat pants, and then wandered out to the kitchen to familiarize myself with the place. My stomach grumbled loudly, complaining and wanting for some substantial food. I rubbed my palms together and smiled. No more hospital food!

Within moments, I had cleared the cabinets of all they contained: Half a jar of jelly, some peanut butter, not quite a loaf of bread, and in the refrigerator, two eggs, an apple, and just a bit of margarine. Well, that's all I supposed one should need, and I quickly threw together the best looking breakfast I'd ever seen. Well, remembered seeing, anyway. 

But………

Somehow, the appeal quickly faded. I seemed to be used to something much finer. Maybe my parents were rich and they disowned me when I married May. Maybe I used to be rich and then we went bankrupt! The possibilities are endless - they always have been. Except now I can question my wife.

I sat down to what my efforts had produced at the table. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I didn't quite remember how to work an oven - I must've never known how - and even the toaster seemed to be a challenge. 

May walked out, as if on cue, as my thoughts fell to a lull, and yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. The sleeve of her green and white striped pajamas fell over her palms to the knuckles and she looked quite cute in the oversized sleep wear. The pants were too long as well. 

"Hey," I said cheerfully, "long night?" I didn't quite remember her ever coming to bed. I'd fallen asleep by the time she'd come in.

"You have no idea," she muttered. 

I looked at her sharply, wondering what that was supposed to mean. Her tone insinuated that I was the root of all her problems. I vaguely wondered if we'd been having marital problems before my 'accident'. Whatever that was. No one seemed to know. The doctors had released me saying I didn't need anymore help from them aside from a few check-ups, just to be sure I was in good health, and that memory would return to me eventually if I just kept being reminded of things in the past. May was the only therapy I needed, they said. Why was she being so edgy?

She caught on to my worry and suspicion and seemed startled. "Oh," she quickly began to correct herself in that wonderfully smooth, deep voice of hers - so much like music - "I didn't mean that. I meant, I was up late last night. I mean, I'm fine. I mean, oh, never mind!" She agitatedly moved away, grabbing the apple out of the refrigerator. I went back to my small breakfast at the kitchen table, and gazed out the window as I ate.


	3. Shopping and Walking

Shangri-La here again. Sorry I didn't update this for so long, but I came down with some sort of sickness and my head is pounding. *cough cough* Well, here it is - the long awaited third chapter... Review because you know you love it!  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Faye's P.O.V:  
  
Vicious began asking me questions after the first two days. How did we meet? Where was his family? Did he have a job? How long had we been together? I said, college, dead, not at the moment, and two years. He seemed satisfied with everything, like he didn't want to push it, and even though I sometimes thought it might be wise to take down Spike's picture, I never did.  
  
One day, he complained that he hadn't very many clothes.  
  
"We'll go shopping for clothes then," I replied with a wince. My wallet was pretty thin - and he didn't even have one. "But after that," I added, "you really need to get a job."  
  
We went to the mall, first of all, and he remained pretty quiet. It's not like I expected him to talk up a storm or anything, but somehow, the silence made me uncomfortable. I'd been wavering in my plan lately. I had hoped to make him fall in love with me, to become attached, and then, in good time, to break his heart in two. And perhaps after that to stomp all over it. Just like he had done to me with Spike. But things didn't seem so simple now. We hadn't even kissed. He hadn't wanted to (although I had found out the hard way that he liked to cuddle in his sleep).  
  
"I like this place," he said, stopping me and pointing to a store.  
  
I actually laughed out loud. It was a stylish store with clothes that were all the rage, and what was more, there were all COLORFUL. At his bemused look, I apologized and explained, "It's too expensive. Here - you like dark colors anyway."  
  
"No I don't."  
  
"Yes, you do." I took him by the arm and led him into a much cheaper place, though he wasn't happy about it. I hurried him along until he had two outfits, which was all I would allow, and after paying we promptly left and went to the park. I had to admit, I was getting anxious to put my plan into action.  
  
"How about ice cream?" he asked hopefully as we passed a vender.  
  
I sighed and looked up into his face. He was like a child then, his expression innocent and pleading. He actually looked cute like that. Almost as if to protect myself from further thoughts that might run along similar lines, my mind conjured up a picture of a smirking Spike, the kind of crooked smile he wore when telling a joke. My heart almost began to ache at the prospect of how long it had been since I'd heard his soft, rich laugh. No, it was more of a chuckle. Whatever it was, I just missed it.  
  
Vicious is the one who ordered and paid for our treat, handing me my cone with a smile. I took his arm in mine, mechanically, and we began to walk and eat. Without hardly knowing it, I had pushed myself into flirt mode.  
  
"You know," I commented softly, pressing myself up close against him, "I really missed you. I was so lonely, but I never really gave up hope. I just couldn't." For emphasis, my voice had become sugary sweet and almost pouty, and I nuzzled against his neck. He was stiffening under my touch, a little uncomfortable, and I smiled up at him. Ok, so it was all very corny and mushy, but the guy had amnesia - and he was totally falling for it.  
  
"It's nice," he began, his voice faltering, "to know that you care about me... I had thought no one did."  
  
"Do you still care about me?" I pressed, stopping him and turning so that we were facing one another. I gazed firmly into his eyes, which kept darting away from mine. "I love you...and I'm scared...that you don't love me back...because...because..." Come on, girl! Make this insecurity thing work for you! A few tears would be nice too. I felt a warm, sticky droplet trickle down my fair cheek. Bingo. "You've been away so long... I'm scared that you might've forgotten how much you used to care for me..."  
  
Vicious, shocked and overcome by the emotions being displayed, dropped his ice cream cone. It hit the ground and splattered close by his shoes, which caused him to look down, severely startled. Forlornly, he looked at his lost dessert.  
  
"Vicious, is that what happened here?"  
  
He shook his head frantically, faded blue eyes wide in horror. His colorless hair swirled around his face, almost the same color as his pale skin. "No, no - I could never forget how I feel!" he insisted, which was sort of funny since he'd never loved me to begin with. "I knew from the moment I first saw you...that we were meant for each other. I'll never leave you again, May."  
  
It almost threw me off, hearing him call me that name. I wish I had just told him from the start that my name was Faye, not May. Nevertheless, I smiled tearfully up at him, trying not to think too deeply about what I was doing.  
  
He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up, bending down as if to kiss me. I closed my eyes and waited, but a child ran by with a kite and it obviously distracted Vicious. He let go of me and looked at it, shading his eyes with his hand. I glanced up as well, seeing with a sudden jolt that the kite was a red Chinese dragon, and Vicious' eyes had glazed over from staring at it. The Red Dragons. I couldn't let him remember his old syndicate - not yet. Grabbing his face in my hands, I jerked it back towards mine and rose onto my tiptoes, kissing him hard and without feeling. It lasted a few seconds, and he was the one to push away.  
  
I stared at him, unsure of what to do. Both of us looked highly unsatisfied with the kiss. It had been pretty cold and unfeeling, and I doubt it made him feel anything for me. I sighed and looked away.  
  
"It's ok," he tried to console me. "I'm just a little...unsure of myself right now. We'll get back to how we used to be."  
  
I smirked to myself as we started walking again. "Back to how we used to be, huh?" I murmured under my breath. Wow, the thing was, if I had my way, things would go back to the way they had been years ago only for about two seconds before I shot his brain out.  
  
We were quietly strolling along down a dirt path, just past this tiny flower meadow, when Vicious suddenly grabbed me, spun me around, and dipped me down for a gentle kiss. It probably looked pretty romantic, like some movie scene, and when he lifted me back up and set me on my feet, he was smiling, pleased with himself. It HAD been nice...  
  
"Let's go home now," I suggested, a bit unsteady after the kiss. I'd just ventured into unknown territory, and stepped back - alive and unharmed. I felt a little scared, but at the same time, triumphant. My plan was working.  
  
Vicious was falling for me. 


	4. Remembrance

Wow! I have not updated in a long time! Guess I've been busy with the stories under my own pen name. Well, here's the deal, my partner here has lost interest in this fic (understandable) but I've fallen in love with it! So, one more chapter to go after this and then I'm writing either a sequel or an extended version or something under my pen name, ok? Well, on with the chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed!  
  
Shangri-La  
  
~~~~~  
  
Vicious' View:  
  
May keeps a lot of pictures on her wall, but I like this one best. The one with the lanky man in the blue suit and the funny green hair eating bell peppers with his fingers. May is in the background, looking like she's scolding him, and there's a dog there too, kind of off to the side and looking sleepy. I wonder who the man is. He looks very laid back and very funny. May said he was my friend, but he died. I'm sure if I could remember him, I'd miss him dearly.  
  
"Vicious!" May calls me from the kitchen, and I turn to jog over to see what she needs. I like to make myself as useful as I can since I don't seem to help in the income department too much. I attained a job at a small restaurant as a waiter and dish washer, but it doesn't pay too much.  
  
As it turns out, all May really wanted was for me to help her make dinner. She looks a little sad tonight so I try to cheer her up by doing my best Cajun chef impression, complete with exaggerated accent. At first she looks like she thinks I'm a total weirdo, and then she just smiles and shakes her head. But before long, I have her laughing quietly, holding a hand to her mouth as she tries not to let her joy pour out. Why does she restrain her happiness around me?  
  
"Vicious, you surprise me sometimes," she says quietly, and turns around to start chopping up carrots for the vegetable stew. I don't bug her by asking what that comment was supposed to mean. Instead, I make a comment of my own.  
  
"You don't like to kiss me."  
  
She stiffens, freezing in mid-chop. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"You always turn you're head and cough," I say matter-of-factly. It's understandable, really. May just doesn't feel comfortable around the new me just yet, and the way I talk sometimes must make me seem like a stranger, but I've been meaning to point this out for a while. I add one more little thing that's been annoying me. "And at night, in bed, you start sneezing if I so much as look at you."  
  
"I have allergies to your shampoo," is her meek reply, and she hunches over her shoulders, refusing to turn around and look at me.  
  
"Then why do you buy it?"  
  
"Because your scalp is sensitive."  
  
"Why are you only allergic at night?" This tone I'm using is even starting to scare me. It's deadly calm. But that's how I feel. Calm. "Are you afraid of getting close to me, May? Because that's what I'm sensing here."  
  
No response.  
  
Now I'm getting frustrated. "It's not like I'm going to change into someone else!" I exclaim, throwing up my hands in irritation. "This is who I am and we're gonna hafta make this work, aren't we? May! I'm here for you! You can trust me! Why won't you let me get close to you?!"  
  
Her hands start to fly as she cuts up the carrots at top speed, nearly losing a finger in the process.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you! I'd protect you to the end! All I want, is for you to let me in and stop pushing me away. Is that so much to ask? I mean, you're perfect! I love you! And I know I've never said that before, but it's true, and that perfect remark was WAY off subject, but that's how I see you, and I just wish you'd share a little of that with me... I wanna take care of you, May, and I feel bad cuz right now, the best I can do is a few bucks an hour at some two-bit job down town! Are you mad at me?" I pause. Then, in utter distress, "Please, talk to me! What are you afraid of, May?!"  
  
"I am not afraid!" she cries, whirling around.  
  
I am facing her now, scowling, my hands on my hips. "Then prove it."  
  
And she does. She puts her arms around my neck and kisses me - and it's all very cold and mechanic. At first. After a while, she warms up, and I hold her tighter. She seems to be a little scared, but desperately wanting affection. She's my wife - I don't remember her. Perhaps this what her fear and her need originates from. I don't know. All I know is that she is warm, she is soft, quite a few moments pass, and I actually have to push her away when the pot of soup begins to boil over, the liquid hissing angrily as it hits the burner.  
  
May blinks in a bewildered fashion at the mess. "Great. Dinner is ruined." But her voice is too soft and almost awed to sound as if she really means it. A small smile creeps over her face and she stares at me with a dazed look in her eyes.  
  
I run a hand through my colorless hair, sighing. "Wanna go out?"  
  
She slowly nods. I get out coats and we leave.  
  
~~~~~  
  
It rains. Actually, that's too much of an understatement. It's a downpour, torrential almost. We both get soaked trying to run home and by the time we're back in the apartment, May is coughing and sneezing, and blowing her nose on a handkerchief.  
  
"Guess tonight you don't have to pretend to be sick," I tease, and she shoots a glare my way.  
  
"Too bad," she mumbles, running back to the bedroom, "'cuz I was warming up to the idea..."  
  
Wow. Talk about time stopping. I actually zoned out for a few seconds after that. It's weird - really weird. We're married. I have amnesia. We feel like strangers. And she's starting to like me! No, love me!  
  
I flop down on the couch and grin to myself, wishing I had someone there right now to share my good mood with. And then a thought came to me with such force I spoke it aloud. "I miss Lin."  
  
Lin? Lin who?  
  
Confused, I glance around to see if anyone heard. Of course there's no one there, but still, I'm paranoid. I feel almost ashamed for speaking the name. Who is Lin? I normally would ask May, but I feel so guilty for simply remembering the name that I just can't. But I need to know!  
  
Panicked, I run to the pictures on the wall and search for a familiar face. The smirking man with green hair and deep, amber-brown eyes strikes me as too familiar - but in an awful way. Breathless, I stumble back and over to a chair, my knees buckling when I feel it behind me. Now taking huge, wheezing gasps, I tuck my head between my knees, clutching at my hair so tight it hurts, and try not to pass out. My memory coming back isn't supposed to be painful!  
  
May speaks my name, but it seems so far away. I hear hurried footsteps thud on the floor and feel a gentle hand massaging my back, and her worried, frantic calls plead for me to respond. "What's wrong?" she keeps saying over and over, and I realize I am shaking, choking, sobbing.  
  
I rock back and forth desperately, forcing out something like, 'I think I'm having a panic attack'. I don't know. I'm hysterical by this time.  
  
May is kneeling in front of me and I slide off the chair limply to sit in front of her, staring with glazed eyes at her face. It's blurry. Tears run down my face and there is a knot in my throat. "What's wrong with me?" I whisper.  
  
She reaches out to me and somehow I am diving into her embrace, and she is holding my head to her chest, hugging me tight because I am still freaking out. And then it passes. I am calm again, sniffling and clutching at her, but no longer screaming or breathing erratically. I feel hollow inside. Like I did something wrong and have no remorse.  
  
"Let's go to bed," May says quietly, and I nod. She helps me to my feet and leads me back to our room, and I don't even undress. Just lay down and cling to her so tight she has no chance of even wriggling out. But she doesn't seem to mind.  
  
"I love you," I tell her, voice trembling. I mean those words so much I ache. "I really do."  
  
"I love you too, Vicious," she murmurs against my neck, where she has buried her face. Funny, sounds as if she REALLY means it, which feels strange. Does this mean all the times she has said it before she didn't mean it?  
  
Doesn't matter.  
  
I curl up as much as I can while still holding her and close my eyes. I'm exhausted. May's big, green eyes are on me, intense and scared, and I peer back at her sleepily, lazily brushing a strand of her shoulder-length, black hair from her face. Then, I close my eyes and fall asleep with her watching me.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Review! Much excitement to come! I'll write the next chapter soon and then the sequel goes under the pen name 'Shangri-La'. I know, I know - I keep stressing that, but I don't want ppl to miss the second half! 


	5. Promising Heartbreak

Eek! Sorry this took so long! Updates will come faster when I put this under my pen name!  
  
*****  
  
Faye's P.O.V.  
  
I didn't sleep at all after the 'panic attack'. Would you have been able to?  
  
Vicious' body tried to contract and curl into a fetal position during the night, his breath shuddering against my neck, but I wasn't letting go, clinging to him like I had never imagined myself doing - with anyone. The prospect of releasing him and losing who he was - this whole new man - was too much to handle so soon after the shock of his previous breakdown. He molded himself to me, breathing faster than he should have, most likely tangled in some bloody nightmare, and he whispered a name.  
  
"Julia..."  
  
Tears sprung to my eyes, stinging, hot, pressing against my closed eyelids and begging for escape. It wasn't fair, you know? The first man I'd ever cared about had been all wrapped up in that woman, and now even Vicious, who had been betrayed by the girl, turned hard and bitter towards her, still was not willing to release the blonde goddess.  
  
What did she have that I didn't? Was she prettier? Maybe to some people, but I didn't find her a vast improvement over myself. How about smarter? Ok, maybe, but I don't call cheating on a murderer with his best friend too intelligent. Perhaps they preferred her personality. Yeah, that had to be it.  
  
A sob near escaped my constricted throat.  
  
I bet she was witty and quiet and graceful, not loud and obnoxious like me. She was probably submissive and understanding, too, unlike my demanding self. I didn't know - I'd never known her personally. But these two guys had placed her on such a high pedestal that something had to be absolutely amazing about her.  
  
Angrily, I pushed Vicious' heavy body away, forcing him to uncoil his limbs from around my own and waking him in the process. A disoriented, mumbled question rose from his lips, and when I only swung my legs over the bed, stalking to the kitchen, he halfheartedly rose as if to follow, but found the effort too much and dropped back down to the bed with a grunt.  
  
Once seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, I took time to contemplate my sorry life. Even when Vicious couldn't remember her, he was still all hung up on Julia. I hated her.  
  
So, what was the plan again, Faye?  
  
Oh yes, make him fall in love with you, crush his heart, shoot him to death. One minor problem there. I was the one in love.  
  
I was the one with the broken heart.  
  
The door to the bedroom was knocked open then and Vicious stood there, rubbing at his left eye with a fist. "May," he groaned sleepily, "come back to the bed. What's wrong?"  
  
My lips settled over the rim of the coffee cup as I let out a sigh through my nose. The heat from the warm mug burned my mouth, but I didn't care. "You whispered another woman's name in your sleep," I muttered, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion, in release.  
  
He lowered his head, staring at the ground a second, and then looked back up at me, frowning. Confusion and fear knitted his eyebrows together. "I...I was having a bad dream about someone. I don't understand."  
  
"You just can't let her go, can you, Vicious?" I said quietly, dumping out the remainder of my coffee in the sink and then dragging my sorry butt back into the bedroom. As I tried to shoulder by him, however, a strong hand caught my wrist, the other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me back. Truthful, stormy gray eyes locked on mine.  
  
"You're the only one I care about, May, honest."  
  
It caught me off guard. Pretty straight forward and heartfelt - not some corny line from a romance movie.  
  
Too bad I was the one deceiving him.  
  
Why did he have to act like such a sweetheart?!  
  
With a sigh and a shrug, I brushed him off and went back to the bed, burying myself under covers. It felt so cold all the sudden. My body shivered uncontrollably.  
  
Vicious stood in the doorway a while longer, completely at a loss for actions and words. "What's going on?" he finally asked, his naturally gruff, low voice sounding a bit more like the real Vicious, the one that killed Spike.  
  
I sniffled in reply, still nursing my cold from the rain.  
  
"Tell me that you love me," he demanded. When I said nothing, there was a thud, like his fist pounding angrily against the wall. "May - I - just - " I could tell he was strangling curses and other angry, nasty things in his throat. "I feel like I'm losing it here," he said helplessly.  
  
"You whispered her name..." I heard his footsteps shuffling on the carpet, and then felt the mattress shift and sink under his weight. He tried to worm his way under the blankets to get next to me, but I kept them tight and close to my body, not wanting to feel his touch or hear his voice or anything because it was all just an illusion. In the end, he gave up, not questioning me, or at least not verbally, and laid one hand to my hip, placing his head on the pillow beside mine, and lay turned on his side to face my back.  
  
"Does saying that I feel like I'm short on time make any sense at all?" he whispered in my ear. I could feel his warm breath against my skin, moving over the cuff of my ear in a rush. "I don't know. Maybe I'm losing myself. I'm so frustrated over this amnesia thing. Were we ever happy, May? We're we...ever...happy?"  
  
"Not that I remember," I answered honestly, burying my face into the pillow.  
  
"I feel like I could be..." He paused, searching for the right word, I guess, and when he found it, he spoke with a little chuckle and a tone tinged with passion. "...*deliriously* happy with you. Don't let me ever forget that, ok?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
He fell silent, moving away until we both were separated by stifling silence and muted, white sheets. I knew he was staring at the ceiling, his silver hair splayed on the pillow beneath his head.  
  
What was this drowning feeling? This sudden despair and onslaught of grief?  
  
I cried so quietly that night that he never even noticed.  
  
*****  
  
His place was empty the next morning. It had grown cold too. I stood there for a long time, staring at where he had lain, unblinking, unfeeling. Unconsciously, I clutched one of his discarded shirts to my heart. So many mixed emotions and dramas playing out in my life. Hadn't even had it this bad on the Bebop.  
  
Speaking of which, how was old Jet doing? Should probably call him up or something. I could just see him, all lonely and discarded by society, sitting hunched over on the couch with a bowl of fried bell peppers on his knees, bags under his eyes from nights spent without sleep. He'd probably have a pair of chopsticks in hand, poised between mouth and food, sitting there deathly still with empty, emotionless eyes trained on some bounty hunting show. Big Shot, most likely. Wait - they'd cancelled that.  
  
Then again, I was probably thinking too melodramatic. Maybe he'd made new friends and was sitting around playing cards with them and laughing. Maybe he never even thought about me or Spike or Ed anymore.  
  
Ed...crazy kid. Surprising she hadn't showed up on the news or something yet.  
  
Turning away from my reverie, I pulled on my light weight robe and stepped into the worn slippers I'd bought at a thrift store eons ago. I padded out to the kitchen, staring through the doorway at Vicious. He seemed focused completely on the picture of Spike, which wasn't unusual, but this time was different...  
  
His eyes, gray and lifeless, were narrowed to slits, jaw clenched tightly. He had already dressed, clothed in a pair of dark slacks and a black T- shirt and his trench coat. This wasn't my Vicious. This was the one who had lain dormant in his heart during our stay together.  
  
My heart stopped beating a moment. I was terrified. So much that I dropped a plate I'd been holding. It hit the floor tiles, shattering into gigantic pieces and then smaller splinters, all around my feet, but the sound and the sight held no affect on either of us, like it had happened in another world.  
  
"Vicious?" I called out softly, a tremble to my tone, making me sound hurt, vulnerable, desperate. I hated it. Even more than I hated harsh reality and Julia.  
  
"Faye," was his deadpan reply.  
  
Oh...my... Not May. He remembered my name. My real name.  
  
His eyes slid over to meet mine, dull and glazed. A grim smile stretched his ghastly pale lips in a horrible fashion, the slender arch of his cheekbones suddenly making him appear gaunt. "You said I whispered her name last night - a bold accusation for one who still keeps his picture framed on the wall."  
  
I wanted to tell him Spike meant nothing to me, even though I knew he wouldn't care, but I would say it if only he'd reply Julia meant nothing to him - those two belonged together anyway! But I couldn't, for that would only be a lie. Another illusion. And Vicious had already discovered the truth.  
  
He turned to face me fully, crossing his arms athwart his chest. "I should kill you for the games you played with me - the circles in which you made me ran. What was your motivation, Miss Valentine? Was I a dog to do your bidding? Some form or amusement?" He cocked an eyebrow, frowning. "I'm leaving now."  
  
And he turned his back towards me, taking a stiff step towards the door. The vision blurred, trembled, distorted by the tears that lay precariously in my eyes. "Vicious...no...don't leave me like this," I heard myself whimper, but it sounded so far away. A thin, small hand reached for him, only grasping air.  
  
He paused with his palm curving around the doorknob, looking over his shoulder. I suppose both of us were expecting me to run to him and hold onto him and cry into his back, but I didn't. I wanted to, believe me. But I couldn't.  
  
"It wasn't supposed to be this way," I murmured helplessly.  
  
He stared at me a while, looking as if many thoughts were turning over in his head. I hoped he might remember the night before, in which he had told me he could be happy here, he'd love me always, and that he cared. Even if those things were present in his mind, they held no position of importance over his actions, which were to turn and drift silently away, almost an apparition.  
  
I stood alone, not knowing how to react. What do you do after something like that? Sit down at the table and have breakfast as normal?  
  
The quiet was deafening. So was the loneliness.  
  
Bending, I began to pick up the fragments of the plate I had dropped, trying to numb myself to the whole experience. Unfortunately, the only thought running through my head was, "You have to bring that man back! Not Vicious, the one he's hiding!"  
  
Idiot voice. Stepping over to the trash can, I dropped the shards of glass into the near empty bin, my gaze straying to the window. It was early - only a few people milled the streets. Vicious was one of them, walking slowly and purposefully away from the apartment building, never even looking back. With my mouth gaping in disbelief at how things were happening so slow, yet so fast, I stared at him until he disappeared.  
  
After that, I did sit down and have breakfast, turning the radio on real loud so I'd at least feel like I wasn't the only one on the planet. Nothing was on - just some jazzy saxophone number. It led me to think of a strange person I'd met a long time ago.  
  
Gren.  
  
There was one messed up guy. Handsome though. Shame he had that little problem. Eh, but I digress. Talking about the changes those drugs made in his body is not a good topic to mull over while eating cereal. But Gren, the person, he was really...something. Someone good to talk to. I found myself missing him for some reason - probably because he knew what it felt like to be suddenly turned on by Vicious.  
  
But Gren had chosen the path to that led him to try to deny that he was missing the man, that he was hurt. He had decided to hide himself away and repress his feelings.  
  
I drove my hands into my hair, letting my head drop and hang. I'd made Vicious a promise - I was never going to let him forget how happy he was with me. I'd let Spike slip away and was still kicking myself for it. Was I supposed to sit around and repeat the same mistake?  
  
Seemed that way.  
  
Where would Vicious go back to? The Red Dragons? Would they accept him? Or maybe he'd start a new syndicate from scratch. I wouldn't put anything beyond the man. But where to find him? And how? Only one person I knew was skilled enough for that kind of work.  
  
Seated at a computer in the public library, my fingers flying rapidly across the keyboard, I posted the following message on the Internet:  
  
Hey, kid! Faye-Faye needs your help, so you better contact me somehow! Make it quick!  
  
How Ed was going to find it out there among the mass of information just floating in cyberspace, I had no idea - but I was somehow confident she would.  
  
And she did.  
  
Three months later, just when I had given up hope, there was a certain redheaded girl at my doorstep with her dog, grinning up at me in excitement and delight.  
  
"Faye-Faye! I missed you!" And the child launched herself into my arms.  
  
Well, she was older now. I didn't know the actual age of the girl, but she looked about fourteen or fifteen. She had filled out a little - which was a great difference from how she had been before - and was actually dressing different. A pair of black leggings and a green, woolen turtle-neck. Her hair was actually at shoulder's length - but she was still just as childish in actions and words.  
  
"What are we doing?" she asked in that lilting tone of hers as I let her and Ein in.  
  
"Marveling over you, Ed," I sighed. "You actually found me. Took long enough, but you still found me."  
  
He looked defensive, pouting and peering up at me. "It's a big net," she murmured. "But I had been searching for information on you and Jet and Spike-person everyday." Her face brightened with a huge grin. "I knew one of you would get into trouble eventually!"  
  
"Amazing. You can explain it all later. Now, I need you to find someone else. Vicious."  
  
Her green eyes widened, and she actually looked very cute. "Vicious...?"  
  
"Yes. We're going to track him down."  
  
Dropping her backpack on the floor with a thud, she threw out her arms and cried, "Why?"  
  
"Because I love him," was my answer as I stuck my tongue out at her astonished look. "That's why."  
  
*****  
  
Well, that would be the end of the first part. The rest is likely to be longer and will be under my pen name 'Shangri-La'. It'll probably be titled 'Blood & Remembrance' simply because I can't think of a better name and I don't want to change it completely so everyone gets confused! Well, hopefully you all will keep reviewing the second part! Thanks and bye! 


End file.
